Just Look at Legally Blonde
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Crack!Fic in which Deep Six is not only being made into a musical, but McGee and his team will be doing a workshop/out-of-town tryout of the show playing their respective characters...in a reality show! **Judgement Day Spoilers in Chapter 2!**
1. Bad Idea

Disclaimer: _NCIS_ and all of its characters are the property of CBS.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Ms. Crawshaw?" Timothy McGee, or Thom E. Gemcity as he was known to his fans, looked uncertainly at the woman who sat across the table.

Lyndi Crawshaw rolled her eyes in disdain. Tim, while one of her most successful clients, was also one of her most difficult clients. He would prefer to work completely alone when it came to his writing and he was closed off to any ideas she had for drumming up publicity. It was as if he didn't _want_ to milk the success of his novel for all it was worth! "Timothy, I have told you to call me Lyndi," she scolded him as she took a large sip of her tea. "Yes, I am sure about this. Timothy, this is the way to go! Don't you realize how your novels will sell after this?"

"But, Ms. Craw – Lyndi – I don't think this is going to work. _Deep Six_ just doesn't lend itself well to musical theater."

Lyndi waved her hand to cut him off. "Timothy, have you seen Broadway lately? If you drum up enough publicity, you can make _anything_ into a musical and sell tickets for it. It doesn't even have to be a _good_ musical. Just look at _Legally Blonde_."

"But that appeals more to the MTV generation. I don't think that's really my demographic."

"That is why we're going to do the reality show."

Tim's face reddened as he coughed, the coffee he had just gulped spewing from his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. "The _what_?"

"The reality show," she repeated as though that explained everything. "Every new musical needs a workshop. You know, to see how it looks on stage, how the songs work, etc." she said.

"And you want to create a reality show following the show from its conception, going through how it's put together, ending with opening night of the show?" While he wasn't really one for reality TV, that didn't sound like _that _bad an idea.

"In a way," she answered with a twinkle in her eyes. "We're going to do a workshop at NCIS with your colleagues playing their respective characters and create a reality show about it."

Tim's eyes widened. He began opening and closing his mouth, but couldn't actually find the words to say. Anyone passing by would think the federal agent was doing an impression of a gold fish. "But…NCIS…musical….I…"

"Timothy, it's never been done before! A musical based on a best-selling novel being performed by the very people upon which it is based!"

"Maybe it's never been done before because it's a _bad_ idea! Or maybe because the people on which it was based killed the writer of the novel before the opening number could be written!" God, this was not good. There was no way he would be able to convince Lyndi that this was a bad idea and when the team found out about this they would murder him. With a trained assassin, a Marine sniper, a forensic scientist, a former cop, and a medical examiner and his protégé involved, there was no doubt in Tim's mind that not only would his body never be recovered, but his disappearance would be seen on _Unsolved Mysteries_ until the end of time.

Just as Tim was about to flee, change his name, and begin his life anew, he realized something. "There is no way NCIS is going to approve this," he said, trying to hid a smile. "So you'll have to figure out something else."

Lyndi's eyes became steel, her mouth twisted into a determined pout. Tim was suddenly very scared.

* * *

AN: This fic was inspired by a drabble that came as the result of a LiveJournal meme. I have absolutely no idea where I am going with it! It's going to be one of those "fly by the seat of your pants" stories. It'll be an adventure for all of us!

Please let me know what you think! I appreciate all and any feedback ;) Also, I am very much open to title suggestions!


	2. You're Dead, Probie

Tim's head fell against his desk with a resounding thud

Tim's head fell against his desk with a resounding thud. Only his colleagues, who were currently standing around his desk, heard his muffled moan: "I can't believe this was approved."

"A musical? That's gay even for you, McFosse. And now you have to bring the rest of us down that road with you?" Tony cried incredulously.

"How did your publisher get the green light for this?" Abby asked as she perched herself atop Tim's desk. "I heard she threatened to sell incriminating pictures of SecNav to the papers."

"Really?" Ziva inquired. "My contacts tell me she threatened to have Betsy taken out if he did not cooperate."

"Is Betsy his wife?" Tony asked.

"No, his cat."

"Ooh, threatening the cat! That's cold!" Abby exclaimed.

A throat cleared behind them. Standing there, arms crossed, was their director Jenny Shepherd. "Actually," she said, a small smile playing on her lips, "it turns out that our Secretary of the Navy is a fan of Tim's book _and_ of musicals _and_ of reality television shows."

"Wow," Tony said, "that's quite the…uh…trifecta of interests. What are the chances that he would be interested in all three of the things that would be involved with this project?"

"Probably about the same that Leon Vance will take over NCIS and completely break up my team for good," Gibbs said as he entered the bullpen. One look at his expression let everyone know that he was not happy with the news of Tim's musical.

"Anyway," Jenny continued with a bemused look on her face, "he feels that this project would help give NCIS a good reputation with the general public. Thanks to some of our agents," she said with a pointed look at Gibbs, "our PR is…well, it sucks to say the least."

"So…we should do a reality show in which we all partake in one of the _least_ masculine past times one could think of?" Tony scoffed.

"Tony," Abby said smacking him lightly on the shoulder, "musical theater isn't only for gay men. Straight guys can do musical theater too!"

Tony groaned. "In the past twenty years musical theater has done nothing but steal movie plots and throw in crappy songs. Just look at _Legally Blonde_!"

Ziva smirked. "For someone who supposedly hates musical theater you certainly seem to be the expert!"

"Ha!" Tony shook his head in dismay. "I'm not an expert, Zee-vah. I just hate sitting by, seeing good films destroyed by Broadway. _Dirty Rotten Scoundrels_, _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_, _Hairspray_, _High Fidelity_, _Evil Dead_…"

"Whoa, there's an _Evil Dead _musical?" Abby asked with awe. "That's cool!"

"So you are against this project because you don't want to see a good story destroyed?" Ziva asked as she furrowed her brows.

Tony snorted. "I don't think McGee's story can _be_ any worse."

"Oh, haha, Tony," Tim called, rolling his eyes. "You're hilarious!" This was not going well. Not that he had actually expected it to go well. After their meeting, Lyndi had whipped out her cell phone and called every person in her contacts list. At least, it seemed like she had. Tim had no idea how far her contacts reached. How was _he_ to know she could reach the Secretary of the Navy?

When he had come into work that day his heart nearly stopped when he saw the memo lying on his desk. Worse yet, both Tony and Ziva were already in the process of reading their memos, giving him no time to hide the memos or at least escape the building. He had tried to sneak out the back way before they saw him, but had been stopped when Abby came around the corner, a similar memo in hand. When he looked back toward the bullpen, both Tony and Ziva were standing, effectively blocking his way out the front. He was trapped.

"Jenny, what the hell are we going to do about our cases? Are we going to tell the families that we can't investigate the murder of their loved ones because we're too busy learning some God-damned opening number?"

"Agent Gibbs, we have set-up other teams to pick up any cases that your team is assigned. Right now, _this_ is your only assignment." It was a stare down between the director and the special agent. It was anyone's guess who would back down. Sometimes Jenny won; sometimes Gibbs was the victor.

After what seemed like an hour, Gibbs walked to his desk, sitting down with a scowl on his face. Jenny grinned, though it was clear this was not over. "Ms. Crawshaw has informed me that the production team will be stopping by today to speak with all of you."

"Who is in the production team?" Ziva inquired.

"Well, I assume Agent McGee is, for one," Jenny said, shooting the agent a look.

Tim shook his head. "Lyndi felt that because I was going to be part of the cast I shouldn't write the script."

"Ah, well maybe it won't be such a bad show after all," Tony retorted, unfazed by Tim's scowl.

"Ms. Crawshaw has given me the names of four people who all of you will be getting to know very well over the next few months," Jenny told them, pulling out a slip of paper. "First, Gregory Hoover, the composer, and Janie Mase, the lyricist. Second, Rudy Polli, the director. Third, Zhanna Millakov, the choreographer."

Tony emitted a loud groan. "I don't dance! At least, not that tutti-frutti Agnes DeMille dancing."

"Again, Tony," Ziva cut in with a grin, "for someone who does not like musicals you seem to be very familiar with them."

"I expect you to be completely cooperative with the production team today," Jenny interjected before the agent and the Mossad officer could continue with their bickering. With a final look to Gibbs she added, "That goes for _all_ of you."

* * *

"So, uh, why are we doing this again," a somewhat confused Jimmy whispered to Ducky.

"Because, Mr. Palmer, when we agreed to work for NCIS we signed our souls over to any degrading acts that PR deems necessary to enhance the general public's opinion of us," the medical examiner grumbled.

The entire team was currently occupying a large table in one of the various meeting rooms. At the end of the table was Lyndi Crawshaw who had shown up to make sure the project was going smoothly. To her right was Tim who was currently staring at the table, mainly to avoid making eye contact with Tony who was seated right across from him. Making eye contact with Ziva and Gibbs, who were also seated across the table, also was something he wanted to avoid. Beside him was Abby who actually seemed excited about the entire project. "I've always had a secret desire to be an actress!" she had confided to him earlier.

The two autopsy men were seated on the other side of Abby, Ducky looking chagrined, Jimmy looking puzzled. At the head of the table sat the Director. Jenny had a hunch she may have to serve as peacemaker and made herself available for the meeting. The last thing she needed was to walk in and find that Gibbs had lost his temper and done something rash.

The door flew open and a group of people were led into the meeting room. First was a young man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties. His blonde hair hung a bit long, slightly covering his green eyes. If you were close enough, you could make out a small, blonde goatee on his face. Behind him was a woman of similar age. Beneath the head scarf she wore was a shock of red hair, almost a burgundy. Her brown eyes bore into the back of the head of the man in front of her. Or at least it looked like she was staring at his head. Seeing as she was almost a foot shorter, it was difficult to tell where she was actually focusing.

Next in line was an older man who was probably in his early forties. He probably had black hair, but it was hard to tell because he was the victim of pre-mature balding and only tufts of hair still remained. He was clad in black pants that were too tight to really be considered pants and a purple silk shirt that was slightly opened at the top. Around his neck was a long silver chain with a male symbol medallion which the man was lightly stroking. There was a pause after the he entered, but the sound of a soft whir could be heard. After a few seconds a final figure appeared in the doorway. She was a woman who was likely in her late seventies. Her hair was completely white, her eyes grey and cold. Her mouth was twisted into an angry and stern pout. Not only was this woman borderline obese, but she was also driving a scooter. A long wooden cane was resting on her lap.

Lyndi stood from her seat. "Well, allow me to make the introductions. This is Gregory Hoover and this is Janie Mase," she said, pointing to the young man and young woman. "Gregory is the composer and Janie will be writing the lyrics and libretto." She then pointed to bald man. "This is Rudy Polli, our director. I understand he just directed the Hungarian tour of _Starlight Express_," she told them as though they were supposed to be impressed. "Finally, we have our choreographer," she said, indicating the woman in the scooter, "Miss Zhanna Millakov. She's danced with every notable ballet company and has even danced with Baryshnikov."

"Dr. Mallard, how can she choreograph if she can't even walk?" Jimmy asked in what he thought was a whisper.

"Mr…Palmer, is it?" Lyndi asked. Jimmy nodded mutely. "I can assure you that Miss Millakov is a fine choreographer and we are very lucky to have her." She was smiling, but the hard look in her eyes indicated that there was to be no argument in the matter.

"I…uh, yes ma'am…"Jimmy said with a gulp.

The production team took their seats. Janie sat in the seat next to Gibbs, throwing him a sweet smile. Gregory scowled as he slid into the empty seat beside Ducky. Rudy took the final empty seat next to Janie and Zhanna situated herself and her scooter next to Jenny at the head of the table.

"Well, Mr. Gemcity," Rudy began, "I just want to tell you how much I adore_ Deep Six_! The drama, the action, the intrigue!" Rudy's eyes were wide, his hands flailing. He was, in every way, shape, and form, your stereotypical gay man, from his lisp to his limp wrist. "But I think you need a love story there!"

"Uh, it's actually McGee, but you can just call me Tim," he responded. "And what do you mean?"

"I mean, _Tim_," Rudy continued rolling his eyes, "that there has to be romance in every good story. Why else watch?"

"But that's not what _Deep Six_ is really about," Tim protested.

"We can add a love story," Gregory put in. "There's potential for something between Agent Tommy and officer Lisa."

In a flash both Tony and Ziva were on their feet, protesting at the same time, their eyes flickering back and forth between Gregory, Rudy, and Tim. "There is no way that Tony and I are going to do romance scenes!" Ziva shouted

"It's not you and Tony, silly," Rudy explained. "It's Tommy and Lisa, the fictional characters!"

"I'm sorry, but I must agree with them," Janie chimed in, her narrowed eyes fixed on Gregory. "Why add a love story? All that will do is give the women who come see the show false hope. We all know that in real life if Tommy and Lisa were to get together it would only end in heartbreak after Tommy decides that hooking up with some trashy blonde bartender is better than spending a night at home with Lisa!"

Gregory shot to his feet. "For the millionth time she and I did not hook up! I was giving her a ride home because her car was out of gas!"

"And she invited you in for a glass of wine and sex in appreciation?" Janie shouted back. "You are so full of it, Hoover!"

"I'm sorry," Lyndi cut in. "I forgot to mention that Gregory and Janie have an on again off again relationship."

"Only off," Janie corrected. "Never on again. Never!"

"Well, fine with me!" Gregory snarled.

The entire room jumped at the loud thumping that followed. They looked at the head of the table and saw Zhanna banging the wooden cane harshly against the floor. "That is enough from ze two of you," she cried in a thick Russian accent. "Now both of you sit so ve can get some vork done!"

"Boy, she sounds a lot like Natasha from _Rocky and Bullwinkle_, doesn't she?" Tony whispered to Ziva.

"Is that the one about the one about the boxer?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "No, it's the one about the moose and squirrel." When Ziva shot him a puzzled look in response he shook his head. "Never mind."

"I believe that Gregory and Janie have already finished a couple of songs," Lyndi informed the group. "They have the opening number and one of Amy Sutton's songs."

"I get my own song? Cool!" Abby exclaimed. "When can I come in and learn it?"

Both Gregory and Janie were momentarily stunned by Abby's enthusiasm. "Well, I suppose you can meet with us sometime today," Gregory said. "Or, if Janie can't make it, it could just be the two of us," he added, giving Abby a wink. A second later he emitted a small squeal of pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Janie said in mock sympathy, "was that your shin I kicked?"

"You!" Zhanna cried as she pointed to Jimmy. "Do you dance?"

"I…uh…well," he stammered under her glare, "um…I can do the Macarena…"

"You vill be the lead in my dream ballet!"

"The what what now?" Jimmy asked.

"Every musical has a dream ballet!" she told him. "Haven't you ever seen _Oklahoma_? It vill be the Autopsy Dream Ballet!" Zhanna grinned just thinking about it. Jimmy paled.

"What about this Tibbs character, hmmm?" Rudy asked as he once again began stroking his medallion. "He's obviously a no-nonsense guy who plays by his own rules. Boy, just the kind of guy I'd like to meet," he swooned.

All eyes flew to Gibbs who throughout the preceding ordeals had remained stony and silent. He looked at Rudy and said in the most even toned voice he could muster, "I can assure you that L.J. Tibbs does _not_ sing and he certainly does _not_ dance."

"But it's a musical!" Rudy pointed out. "He's going to have to do _something_!"

"It's not a musical, it's a circus," Gibbs shouted, "and if you need him to do something he can drink or shoot. Or both."

"I think that is enough for our first meeting," Lyndi intervened. "You all can see what you're dealing with and I think we all have a good idea where we stand."

The visitors stood from their seats, except for Zhanna who simply backed her scooter away from the desk. Gregory slipped Abby his number for "private rehearsals." Janie pretended not to notice. Zhanna asked Jimmy to show her a double outside pirouette followed by an assemblè and a sauté chat. Jimmy, having no idea what she was talking about, simply stared at the crazy scooter lady and she, in turn, whacked him on the leg with her cane.

Tim looked up at Tony who was still sitting across the table from him. Tony ran his finger across his throat and mouthed "You're dead, Probie."


	3. Cameramen Everywhere!

_Abigail Scuito Confessional #1_

_Oh my God, this whole musical thing is really, really awesome! I get my own song, "Here in Labby," which is funny because that's what I call my lab, but I don't think McGee ever actually put that in his book, so I'm wondering how they even know that! I guess he mentioned it to them or something, or maybe that's going in his next book. I haven't actually read the rough draft for this next book, but he did assure me that nothing happens between Amy and McGregor which is good because they totally don't belong together. I'm just hoping that these guys have no intention of creating some faux-romance between the two, because that would just be awkward. Not that I don't love McGee and all, because I do! It's just…well, I love him the way that I love, like, baby and stuff. Not that I'm calling McGee a baby…though he can throw temper tantrums and he does pout a lot…Oh God, can you edit that part out? _

* * *

"You guys are still coming in half a beat too late," Gregory groaned, rubbing his temples. Surrounding his piano were Tim, Abby, Ziva, Tony, and Jimmy. It was very obvious to him that some of these people were not musically inclined. "It's on the downbeat," he explained, though he may as well have been talking Greek to some of them.

"It's _half_ a beat," Tim said, "how important can it be?"

"Coming in late throws the piece off," Ziva told him. "Timing and rhythm are very important in music."

Gregory threw her a smile. "Thank you, Officer David. I'm glad that one of you here knows a thing or two about music."

"Hey, I play guitar," Tony grumbled. "Rhythm just isn't my strongest suit sometimes." He was shuffling through the sheet music in his hand. "Wow…some of these lyrics are…awful," he stated, more to himself than anyone else.

"What was that, Agent DiNozzo?" Janie asked as she approached the group.

"I said these lyrics are, uh, awesome," he replied with a forced smile. Though the young girl was diminutive, she was scrappy and not someone you wanted to anger. Poor Jimmy had found this out the hard way when he had accidentally spilled a plate of spaghetti on her lap. The bruises still hadn't gone away.

"How is the rehearsal of the opening number going?" Janie asked Gregory as she gently massaged his shoulders. Despite her claim the week before that she and Gregory were through for good, the two had reconciled after only three days and, so far, were still going strong.

"Fine, sweet cheeks," he said, giving her a peck on the lips. "Have you gotten any further with Agent Tommy's number?"

"Um…you haven't given me the music for his number, honey bear…"

"Actually, snuggle bunny, I gave it to you last night, remember? You didn't lose it, did you?"

A look of anger flashed through Janie's eyes for a moment. The next moment she was all smiles, though her grin was much tenser. "I didn't lose _anything_, sugar lips."

"Um…maybe we should continue with…the number…" Tim tried in vain to intervene before there was a blow up. Unfortunately, it was too late.

"Are you saying that I'm a liar?" Gregory snapped.

"No, I'm saying that you misplaced the song and now you're trying to blame me for it, as usual. If I ever saw you actually take responsibility for a mistake I think I'd die of shock!"

Zhanna whizzed by in her scooter. "Come," she called to the group, "vhile they argue I shall begin ze 'Autopsy Dream Ballet!'" With that she whizzed off to the dance area where a wood tile floor, mirrors, and ballet barre had been set up.

The group followed as the lovers continued to squabble. "The only thing you gave me last night was a pain in my…" they heard Janie shout as they walked off.

The group stood at the barre as Zhnna instructed them to. To anyone who may have been watching, it was an amusing scene. Abby looked very much out of her element, standing awkwardly, one hand on the barre, feet twisted out. The men looked down right miserable, their bodies bent as they looked down at their feet. Ziva was the only one who looked confident in herself.

"I don't suppose they taught dance at Mossad?" Tony asked as he watched her smoothly open her feet to the proper position.

Ziva smirked. "Believe it or not, Tony, we do have dance schools back home. I took ballet until I was thirteen. I'm surprised to see I still remember all of this." She pushed up to a relevè and turned to the other side, now facing Tony.

"Third position!" Zhanna cried, riding her scooter down the line of the barre, carefully inspecting every foot, arm, shoulder, and rear end for proper positioning.

Abby looked down at her bare feet. Zhanna had insisted that she not wear her boots to dance in and Abby felt slightly naked without her usual foot wear. At least, her calves felt naked. "McGee, is this third position?" She whispered to Tim who was standing behind her at the barre.

"Abby, I'm not the one to be asking. Ouch!" Tim was rubbing his right arm which had just been whacked by a wooden cane.

"Your arm is not in zee proper place!" Zhanna spat. "Ven you do not put your limbs in ze proper place, I hit you! Zen your body shall learn!"

"Boy, did you ever think you'd miss Gibbs' head slaps?" Tony asked from behind McGee.

"How can a woman that old hit so hard?" he hissed, still rubbing his wound.

* * *

"Now, you," Zhanna instructed, pointing to Jimmy, "will lift her," she said, pointing to Abby.

"Um…I'm lifting Abby?"

"What's wrong with that, Jimmy?"

"Well…I mean…nothing! You're just so…um…tall?"

"Do it!" Zhanna demanded, waving her cane menacingly.

Abby ran toward a terrified looking Jimmy and jumped. Jimmy, closed his eyes, prayed and lifted.

"Not bad, Palmer," a bemused Ziva noted.

There in the middle of the dance floor, Jimmy was holding up Abby, twirling her around. It wasn't exactly graceful as Abby was more ore less dangling there, but even Zhanna was impressed. "Very nice!" she called.

Jimmy, hearing their words of encouragement, began to twirl faster. "Slow down!" Abby called down to him as she felt his support waning.

"Whoa!" Jimmy's right foot somehow managed to catch his left leg and his legs crumbled beneath him. The group watched as both Jimmy and Abby tumbled painfully to the ground.

"Oh my God, is everyone alright?" a flustered Rudy cried as he ran to the scene. "I was just over there with Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Ducky when I heard the crash!" Behind him both Gibbs and Ducky approached, both more or less relieved for the interruption.

"I'm fine," Jimmy groaned. He winced as Abby smacked his arm.

"Jimmy! You need to be more careful! I can't break any bones! Casts don't go with any of my outfits." The forensic scientist took the hand Tim offered her and stood to her feet. Jimmy remained on the ground, primarily out of embarrassment.

"All of you, take a lunch break!" Zhanna ordered. She pointed her cane at Jimmy. "You stay put! I will make you a dancer yet!"

* * *

_Anthony DiNozzo Confessional #1_

_Boy, when Jimmy went down…that was just painful. Painful and HILARIOUS! But seriously, I almost felt sorry for the Autopsy Gremlin. The woman is going to beat him black and blue. I just don't see why she wants him to lead her ballet. Yeah, it's an "Autopsy Dream Ballet" or whatever, Palmer is not the most coordinated guy in this joint. I think that honor would go to yours truly. Not that I'm into that fru-fru ballet kind of stuff, but I'm certainly the best they've got. Personally, I'm surprised to see Gibbs handling this whole thing as well as he is. Sure he glares at everyone and slaps the back of my head more—sometime when I don't even deserve it—but no one is dead yet, and that's definitely something to write home about. Though that could make a good plot for Elf Lord's next book. Oh, that's a little nickname I have for McGee. I actually have quite a few. There are the obvious ones: McGeek, Probie, McNerd, McGoo. But I like to get creative. I think my favorite was Probie Wan Kenobi. McFlabby was a good one, too. Then of course McGoogle, McGiggle…really you can put "Mc" in front of almost any word and it works. I think on my feet, ready to throw a new one at him right when he's not expecting it. No, I don't mind if you include that part in my confessional when you air it._

* * *

Rudy was pacing back and forth between Tony and Tim. The two agents were looking over a rough draft of one of the scenes. "This is a very important scene for Agents Tommy and McGregor," Rudy explained. "This is when we see what their relationship is _really_ made of."

"Um…question," Tim said raising his hand. "Nowhere in my novel does Agent Tommy call Agent McGregor, uh, 'McDork.'" Next to him Tony was shaking with laughter as he continued to read the scene. "Where did Janie get the idea for this scene?"

"When we found out about all of the nicknames Agent DiNozzo has come up with for you we all agreed that it just screamed 'musical number!'"

Tim's eyes widened. "Musical number? As in a song about this?"

"Oh, this is my birthday come early!" Tony laughed, still reading. "Have you gotten to the part about 'Aqua Smurf,' Probie?"

"God, this is not happening to me…"

"You know, McLloyd Webber, I take back all the bad things I said about this musical project!"

"Agent McGee," Rudy said, "this adds realism to the characters! It gives them a more defined big brother-little brother relationship."

"But in this Agent McGregor comes off as being a wuss!"

"It's like art imitating life!" Tony teased.

Tim was flipping through the pages, scanning them rapidly. "I cannot believe you actually have a song called 'Probie Wan Kenobi!'"

Rudy pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. "Every musical needs some comic relief."

"Not at _my_ expense!"

"Just run the scene already!" Rudy said as he took a seat in the director chair that he had special ordered specifically for this project. Perfectly poised, he raised his megaphone to his mouth and hollered, "ACTION!"

"Um…Rudy you don't really need that megaphone. It's just the three of us—."

"I don't think that is part of the script, Agent McGee! Just read what is written!"

Tim sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine…Uh, Agent Tommy, what have you found out about our murdered sailor?"

Tony smiled like the Cheshire Cat. "Well, McGeek," he read, lingering a bit too long on the nickname, "we know that his last outgoing call was to a pre-paid cellphone. Now use that egghead of yours and find us the owner of that cellphone before I Tibbs smack your ass."

"Oh come on!" Tim cried, breaking whatever character he was supposed to have. "You've never said that to me before! And I'd like to see you smack my ass…Wait, that came out sounding wrong…"

"Is that the opening of the closet I hear, McFairy."

"I'M NOT GAY!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of! Embrace it."

"You seem way too concerned about _my_ sexuality, DiNozzo. Are you projecting your own sexuality on me, maybe?"

"Funny, McChucklehead. Do you know how many women I've been with?"

"Yeah, I do, Tony. Seems to me like you're trying really hard to cover something up."

"You _wish_, Probster."

There was a silence as the two glared each other down, faces red, eyes blazing. The silence was broken by soft, slow applause coming from Rudy who was still in his chair, enraptured by the prior scene. "That was FANTASTIC!" he exclaimed. "I wish Janie had seen it," he said looking around in hopes that the petite writer was hiding somewhere nearby. "Oh well," he said, "the cameramen caught it all, so we'll just watch it later and write it in. But seriously, I love it! It's so gritty and real!"

Both Tim and Tony looked around, realizing for the first time that there were indeed cameramen _everywhere_.

* * *

_Timothy McGee Confessional #1_

_Fine, if that's the way DiNozzo wants to play! I can tell you his secrets too. He lost his virginity when he was fifteen…to a coquette! Not a Rockette, a coquette. He gives his dates honey dust. Once he accidentally sent it to Gibbs for Christmas! Let's see, what else? Oh, a few years back while we were staking out this woman, he was flirting with her and all and ended up making out with her. Well, surprise, surprise, Tony! She was actually a man! YOU WERE MAKING OUT WITH A MAN! And you're sitting there calling _me_ gay? Oh, this is classic: he was put on the Herpes Alert website by some woman he pissed off, though that doesn't really narrow it down much now that I think about it. How Tony can even find women in this world who he_ hasn't_ yet scorned is beyond me. :pause: :breathe: Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away there. I'm much better now. So when do we start filming?_


	4. Officer Liza With a 'Z'

_Donald "Ducky" Mallard Confessional #1_

_I admit I was hesitant about this entire project from the start, and even now I'm not quite sure that it's really necessary. After all, if I wanted to be performing I would have studied theater. Of course, I _did_ study Shakespeare in school. Everyone did. Yes…it was more a study of his work than it was a study of performing his work. Still, I was quite the performer. I was cast as MacDuff in our class production of _Macbeth_ and I was very good, if I do say so myself. What? Oh, that foolish superstition, yes. When you're in a theater you're supposed to refer to it as "The Scottish Play" I believe. Well, I'm not one for superstitions, mind you. I doubt anything is going to come from my saying the name of the play…I hope._

* * *

Rudy was tapping his foot impatiently as he once again glanced at the clock. It was fifteen minutes after 8:00 and the cast and crew had gathered to begin blocking and choreographing the opening number. So far in their workshop process five songs had been completed: The opening number, entitled "Deep Six," Abby's song, "Here in Labby," a duet between Tommy and McGregor, "Probie Wan Kenobi," a song for Lisa, "In Mossad," and the music for "The Autopsy Dream Ballet." Choreography had begun for Zhanna's ballet and Jimmy had spent the past two days having private lessons with the crazed scooter lady. Thus far all he had to show for it were bruises and a better sense of rhythm. Rudy had spent time with each of the cast members to discuss their characters and motivations. Well, each cast member so far except for Gibbs.

"Where is he?" Rudy asked to no one in particular. Ducky was currently sitting and looking over a new scene that had been given to him that morning. Tim and Tony were sitting on opposite ends of a bench giving each other death glares. Ziva and Abby had situated themselves between the two bickering agents to keep them from coming to blows as they almost had the day before. Both of the women were looking over their respective songs. Jimmy was sitting in one of the folding chairs, his right leg resting on another chair and sporting a mighty impressive bruise. Janie's and Gregory's bipolar relationship seemed to be on the up side that day as the two were sharing a large chair and snuggling slightly. Zhanna was sitting in her scooter, head tilted back. All anyone could hear from her was a large, bellowing snore.

Gibbs was nowhere to be found.

"Perhaps Jethro is having car trouble," Ducky suggested in an effort to calm Rudy, though he knew that wasn't the case.

"No answer on his cell," Tim reported, closing his phone.

Rudy sighed dramatically. "Well, we simply cannot wait for him all day, now can we?" He clapped his hands together, beckoning everyone to the center of the makeshift stage. "We'll just fill him in when he gets here."

"When who gets here?" Gibbs asked as he nonchalantly entered, coffee cup in hand.

"Agent Gibbs! You are late," Rudy scolded.

"Needed to get my coffee."

"We have a perfectly good coffee machine set up here," Rudy said, pointing to a sad looking table on which was an even sadder looking coffee maker surrounded by Styrofoam cups, powdered creamer, and sugar.

"That," Gibbs said shaking his head, "is_ not_ coffee."

"In the future, Agent Gibbs, I ask that you please be a bit more courteous. I'm sure you wouldn't want your workers coming in late."

Gibbs spun around to face Rudy, a scowl on his face. "This isn't work; it's playtime. There is a difference. Now let's get this foolishness done so all of us can get back to doing actual work." Without another word he set down his things, minus his coffee, and joined the rest of the cast in the middle of the floor.

Rudy narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He didn't further encourage Gibbs' tirade, but he was beginning to see that the Special Agent was not going to make this project easy.

* * *

"No, Ms. Scuito, you're coming in too late," Rudy called out, stopping the action. On the "stage" were two collapsible tables set up serving as desks. At one was Gibbs and at the other were Tim and Tony. Ziva was standing by Gibbs desk looking at the non-existent plasma screen that would eventually become part of the set. "Now, you need to enter when Agent Lisa says 'We're going to need Amy to put that blood analysis on rush.' Then you will say…"

"Uh," Abby muttered, scanning the script in her hands, "Oh! 'Sorry, but I've already got the clothing analysis on rush and the fiber samples on rush rush, so unless you've mastered the science of cloning, Lisa, the blood will have to wait.'" She looked up, pleased with herself.

"Yes, that it correct. Now can you do it on time?"

"Ow!" Tim cried out. "Tony!"

"Hey!" Tony yelled in response. "McGee kicked me!"

"Only because he kicked me first!"

"I only kicked you because you told them about making out with…" Tony trailed off, deciding against going any further. "You told them embarrassing things about me!"

"You did it first!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

_Whack! Whack!_

Two identically hard whacks of Zhanna's cane hit both Tim and Tony squarely on the hands. Both agents groaned in pain, retracting their hands quickly to check for any injuries. "Vill you two shat up alveady? Ve do not care about your backstage drama!"

"Yes ma'am," both muttered.

As Zhanna whirred by on her scooter Gibbs shot her a smirk. "I usually just hit the back of their heads," he told her.

"No," she shook her head. "Vith my cane there runs ze risk of brain damage."

"Well, I just use my hand. No brain damage there."

"Hand? I vill stick vith my cane, thank you."

Gibbs shrugged, smiling for the first time since the musical workshop had begun. "Whatever you use, I must say it is effective," he commended, nodding to the two agents who were sitting very well behaved, though quietly, at the table.

"Tank you. I do vut I must."

Rudy walked back downstage to watch as the cast picked up the scene from Abby's entrance. "Now, Birdie and Pimmy will enter after Amy finishes her verse," he explained to Ducky and Jimmy who were sitting to the right of the "stage," both looking quite bored. "Birdie will walk to Tibbs' desk and Pimmy will stand awkwardly by the stage right exit watching everyone else, particularly Amy. When she leaves, Pimmy walks center looking much like a love sick puppy." Abby shot Jimmy a sweet smile and he responded with a nervous grin. "Perfect! I see you two are already in character! Action!"

"Tibbs," Ducky said blandly as he entered, "I have reason to believe that the young man you found hanging in his basement was actually murdered."

"Cut!" Rudy called. "Doctor Mallard, could you please put a bit more feeling into it?"

Ducky sighed. "I will try, but as I've said before, I am a doctor, not Peter O'Toole." He walked to the side of the stage, took a breath, and re-entered. "Tibbs!" he called out, very animated. "I have reason to believe that the young man you found hanging in his basement…was _murdered_!" he cried over-dramatically.

"Okay, now pull it back, doctor. It's a musical, not your daily soap!"

"Come now! You told me first to make it more emotional and now you're telling me to make it_ less_ emotional. I am not sure I can find a happy medium!"

Rudy groaned, rubbing his temples. "We'll work on it," he said. "Let's just continue with the scene."

Abby stood from the table upon which she was perched and walked toward Jimmy, eyes on her script. "I'll be down in my lab if anyone needs me," she said. "_Flirtatious wink to Pimmy_…Oh wait, I'm supposed to do that! Uh…" Abby winked at Jimmy as she left, not so much flirtatiously as spastically. Regardless, the young medical student was still slightly entranced. So entranced, in fact, that he continued to look at her as walked further center and tripped over the folding chair that was next to Gibbs' makeshift desk.

"Oof!" Jimmy was laying face down, his feet caught between the legs of the chair. "I…uh…sorry," he called out to Rudy.

"Sorry?" Rudy asked, gasping for breath between laughs. "For what? That was hysterical! You have the makings of a great slapstick comedian!"

Jimmy was standing slowly, brushing himself off. "Really?"

"Absolutely! You're like a young Harold Lloyd! Janie?"

"I'm right here, Rudy," the petite woman said as she walked up to the rehearsal in progress.

"Janie, I think you need to give Pimmy Jalmer more physical comedy in the script. This kid is hilarious!"

"Wow, Palmer," Tony called out with a smirk, "who knew being a screw-up and getting yourself hurt all the time could turn out to be a good thing?"

"Do I sense a tone of jealousy, Tony?" Ziva asked, shooting Palmer a reassuring grin. Tony didn't bother to respond to Ziva's claim, but simply rolled his eyes.

"Mr Palmer, I will have a private study session with you to teach you how to do stunts without hurting yourself," Rudy promised.

Jimmy gulped. Between his private lessons with Zhanna and her cane and his private lessons with Rudy he had a feeling he should restock his first aid kit.

* * *

_James Palmer Confessional #1_

_You would never think of it looking at her, but Zhanna is a very strong woman. She hit me here :rolls sleeve up: two days ago and the bruising still hasn't gone down. It's not that I don't want to do what she's asking me to do—I do! I want her to stop hitting me!—it's just that I can't do some of it. Heck, some of the time I don't even know what she's talking about. Like "pas de chat"? I mean, I know French and that means "step of the cat," but what does that have to do with ballet and dancing? Although, they did have that musical about dancing cats or something. :shakes head: I'm not a dancer, I never have been. I don't know why she doesn't see that. She should let Ziva star in the dream ballet. She's really, really good. I've been watching her during dance lessons…I mean, not watching her like that…not that Ziva isn't attractive…but…I mean, I notice she's very flexible…wait, I don't mean that in a dirty way…um…_

* * *

Ziva entered the rehearsal studio, bag in hand, her iPod on. Her head was nodding to the music as it flowed through her ears. She let her body dance a bit as she walked through the mostly empty space. By now it was no secret that she had dance experience. She was easily the favorite of Zhanna and likely of Rudy and Gregory. Ziva smiled. _If the others only knew!_

Ziva stopped her iPod, pulling the earphones out and placing the device in her bag. As she walked around the corner she was very surprised to see Tim and Tony sitting together at a table, laughing as they looked at something on Tim's laptop. "Are you two no longer fighting?" she asked as she neared, dropping her stuff on an open chair.

"Well, is it isn't Officer Liza!" Tony exclaimed upon seeing her.

"We called a truce this morning," Tim explained to Ziva, not looking up from the computer screen.

"Ah. I see," she said. "And Tony, the character's name is 'Lisa,' not 'Liza.'"

Tony snorted. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it's Liza…with a 'Z.'"

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "What is up with him?" she asked Tim.

A smile played on Tim's lips. "Don't know, Ziva," he said, his tone giving every indication that he did in fact know.

Ziva looked at the two men who were currently reduced to giggles. Folding her arms, she stalked to the other side of the table, leaned over, and peered at Tim's laptop. Eyes wide her body shot back. "Where did you get that?" On the computer screen was a picture of a very young Ziva kneeling down beside a mangy dog, wearing a red, curly wig, red dress, and black Mary Jane shoes.

"Well, Miss Mossad," Tony teased, "we have contacts too and, according to them, you are quite the starlet."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I wrote to your Aunt Nettie about the show, thinking she may want to see pictures or video, and she wrote back to me, sending me pictures of you."

"Where did you get her e-mail address?" Tim jerked his thumb in Tony's direction and Ziva glowered. "You! I am going to kill you!"

"What is the matter anyway?" Tim asked. "I think it's nice that you were involved in the arts. Why didn't you ever tell us?"

"Come on, Probie! The big bad ninja woman couldn't admit that she was a theater geek. Then she wouldn't be intimidating any more."

Ziva swiftly flipped Tony's chair back, rolled him over, and knelt over him, one knee on either side. She held his arms behind his back and leaned in to his ear. "I do not think that my musical theater past makes me any less deadly, despite whether or not it makes others less intimidated by me," she whispered to him. Tony groaned in response. Ziva, seeing her point had been well learned, rose from her spot and took a place beside Tim.

"Comfortable, DiNozzo?"

"Shut it, McGeek," Tony hissed as he stood.

"What is this one from, Ziva?" Tim asked as a picture of Ziva popped up. She was wearing a white dress with a red sash and was standing beside a young man dressed in jeans a white T-shirt.

Ziva smiled. "_West Side Story_," she told him. "I was sixteen and out of twenty girls who auditioned, I got the role. I was so proud." Tim clicked on the next image and up popped a picture of Ziva in a gingham dress, her hair braided. "That was _Oklahoma_ when I was Ado Annie." Another image came up, this time showing Ziva in a white, turn of the century dress, her hair piled atop her head in a very graceful style. In her arms was a bouquet of roses and beside her was a middle-aged man. Both of them were smiling. "That was _A Little Night Music_," she said, grinning slightly.

Tony squinted at the picture. "Is that your father?"

The smile disappeared from Ziva's face, replaced by a stony glare. "No, that is the man who played Fredrick in the production." She clicked at the top of the photograph, closing it. "My father did not have time to attend my performances."

Tony and Tim exchanged glances, obviously having hit a sore spot for the Mossad officer. "Ziva," Tony said earnestly, "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…"

"I do not need your pity, DiNozzo," she snapped.

There was a thick silence as Ziva and Tony stared at each other and Tim glanced back and forth between the two. Before anyone could say more, a soft whirring was heard and Zhanna rode around the corner.

"Come!" she beckoned. "I vill warm you up for ze dance rehearsal today."

* * *

_Ziva David Confessional #1_

_I guess my experience was bound to come out sooner or later. Funny, yes? The scary assassin has sung and danced in musicals. It does not mean that I cannot still kill. My victims could assure you of that…if they could still talk. I enjoyed performing. I enjoyed being able to pretend that my life was that of Maria or of Annie. So what if my father did not come to see me? He was busy; it does not mean he did not love me still. I did think that at one time, but when I began working with Mossad I realized how much you really had to sacrifice. I remember when I was in my first show, _The Sound of Music._ I was playing Gretel, the youngest girl. When I made my entrance, I looked out into the audience for my father. He wasn't there. When I got backstage after the show, there was a rose at my dressing station with a note from him. At least, it was supposed to be from him, but by that time I could easily recognize his assistant's handwriting. :pause: Well, I suppose it's the thought that counts, yes?_

* * *

**AN:** Somewhere along the line this became less and less a Crack!Fic. I have no idea how. :shrugs: Reviews are always lovely and appreciated.

PS: Please tell me I'm not the only one who sees the uncanny resemblance between Jimmy Palmer (Brian Dietzen) and Harold Lloyd…?

* * *


	5. Inaccuracy vs Embellishment?

_Anthony DiNozzo Confessional #2_

_Well, we're on our third week of this...workshop thing and no one's dead, so I think we're doing fine. Of course, I knew _I'd_ do well. I have a natural knack for performing. Not in a gay way…in a manly way. I mean, lots of action heroes have done musicals. Hugh Jackman. James Cagney. Even Christian Bale tried his hand at singing and dancing. The best part about this? Well, having my own song is a definite plus. We don't have a title for it yet, but it will showcase my vast knowledge of cinema. Janie and I have been having some private sessions so I can give her some ideas of good film references for the song. They've been _very _private sessions :wink: _

* * *

"_The Maltese Falcon_ is always a good one. 1941 classic with Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade. Bogart's always a good one. He was also in _To Have and Have Not_ with Lauren Bacall, her screen debut in 1944. Though I think one of the best onscreen couples was William Powell and Myrna Loy in the _Thin Man_ series."

Tony and Janie were sitting in a corner of the rehearsal space, her with a pad, pencil, and tape recorder. The rest of the cast and crew were dispersed about learning songs, scenes, blocking, or choreography. "Then there is the 1956 classic _The Man Who Knew Too Much_ starring Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day as a married couple who get caught up in a case of mistaken identity. Oh, and _North by Northwest,_ which is the ultimate mistaken identity film."

"Isn't that the one with Cary Grant?" Janie asked.

Tony looked impressed. "You know it?"

She smirked. "Believe it or not, I _do_ watch films on occasion, including some that were made before I was born."

"I suggest you check out James Cagney in _White Heat_," Tony suggested, a flirtatious tone creeping in. "'Top o' the world, ma!'" he shouted, further encouraged by Janie's giggles. "Hard to believe that a man who played such tough guy characters could sing and dance."

"I assume you mean _Yankee Doodle Dandy_?" She had set the pad and pencil aside, crossing her legs. Her green scarf dress came to just above her knees and as she crossed her legs Tony was treated to a flash of her thigh, an image he quite enjoyed.

They were in the third week of rehearsals and since the last week Janie and Gregory had managed to break-up, get back together, and then break-up again. Though neither would admit it, they had both been blatantly flirting with as many members of the opposite sex as they could. In all fairness, Janie was at a slight advantage as there were more men present than there were women.

"I see you know your films," Tony commented. He was trying not to blatantly stare at her thighs as he spoke to her. Unfortunately, he was failing. "I don't suppose you're familiar with any Barbra Stanwyck films."

"Are you kidding?" Janie all but screeched. "_Double Indemnity_ is probably my favorite film of all time!" She blushed, lowering her eyes coyly. "To be honest, Agent DiNozzo, I really didn't need your help finding movies for Agent Tommy to reference…I just thought that some busy work may help take my mind off all of the problems with…" she trailed off, lowering her head. "I don't want to have to work with _him_ any more than needed."

Tony was still for a moment, studying the young woman. He couldn't tell if her sadness was authentic or simply a ploy to reel him in. When he saw a tear sliding down her cheek he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Hey," he said softly, reaching his hand out and lifting her chin, "it's nothing to worry about."

Her chin trembled. "But…but I love him…I thought he loved me too." She wiped away the tear with her thumb. "We fight all the time! We spend more time fighting than we do anything else!"

"Maybe it's not meant to be?" Tony asked carefully. He didn't want to upset her any further, but he wasn't sure what else to say. "Sometimes the people we want to be right for us just aren't."

"But that's what always happens to me!" Her body shook as she sobbed. "Why can I never find Mr. Right? Am I that ugly or that mean?"

"Not at all!" Tony assured her. "You're definitely a 10 on the hottie scale and you've got a brain to boot. That itself puts you miles ahead of the majority of women I've dated."

Janie smiled, sniffling slightly. "You're so sweet, Agent DiNozzo," she told him.

"Call me 'Tony,'" he insisted. "We're all friends here, right?" he added with a wink, managing to get a girlish giggle out of Janie. "Should we continue this or simply call it a day?"

Janie bit her lip, checking her notes. "Well…I certainly have enough here to pen the lyrics for the song…" She sighed sadly. "And I was just starting to enjoy myself."

She stood to go, but he grabbed her arm. "I think we could afford to spend a little more time on this. Besides, I've _got_ to have the best song in this thing!" This woman was obviously feeling low, not to mention suffering from a sever lack of self-esteem. What could cheer her up more than being asked out on a date by a stud like him? "Maybe we could check out some of the more current cinema for inspiration," he suggested with an impish grin.

She cocked her head to the side, a small smirk playing her lips. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Are you saying you wouldn't like to go on a date with me?"

She rolled her eyes, though still smiling. "I see you're teeming with modesty." She sat back down, crossing her legs in the same manner as they had been before. "Pick me up at 7:00pm. We have dinner reservations at 7:30pm and I've already ordered our tickets for the movie."

Tony stared at her, speechless for one of the few times in his life. "What?" she asked. "You didn't think that little sob session was _real_, did you?"

Tony sat back, unsure what to make of the woman who sat across from him. "Have you ever considered switching to acting?"

* * *

_James Palmer Confessional #2_

_We're supposed to be off-book for the scenes that have been written. Uh, that means that we need to know all of the lines and lyrics by now. The problem is we kind of keep changing things. Rudy really wants a romance between Tommy and Lisa, so he wants all of the scenes they're in together to have sexual tension, but, uh, I don't think Tony and Ziva really want that. Janie is really against the romance. She thinks it's too cliché, so she keeps trying to rewrite scenes so that Tommy and Lisa are barely onstage at the same time. Rudy and Janie have just spent the entire time shooting each other dirty looks…I don't think the script is going to be finished in time for the performance at this point…_

* * *

"No, no, no!" Rudy called through his megaphone. "The line, Mr. Palmer, is 'Amy, have you gotten the DNA results back yet?'"

Jimmy looked back and forth between the flamboyantly gay director and the short-tempered librettist, both of whom were currently sitting in the "audience" area of the rehearsal space. "But…uh…Janie gave me a new script last night and…"

"Janie!" Rudy called to her through the same megaphone, despite the fact that she was only two feet away. "How can I expect my actors to know their lines if you keep changing them!"

"I didn't change them,' she protested defiantly. "_You're _the one who keeps changing _my_ lines!"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you could write a half-way decent script!"

"Are you questioning my talents?"

"Are you questioning my questioning of your talents?"

The two were standing nose to nose…well, nose to chest, actually, as Janie was about a foot shorter than Rudy. Still, the fire in her eyes indicated that she was a force to be reckoned with. "This coming from the man whose last show was about trains played by people on roller skates!" she snarled before walking off, leaving a red faced Rudy to stammer for a come back.

"Don't worry, Rudy! She has that effect on everyone!" Gregory called from the piano where he was teaching Tim his song.

"Bite me!" Janie called out, not even bothering to look at her former lover.

Rudy fell into his chair, face in his hands. "I can't believe I turned down the chance to direct the German tour of _Little Me!_ for _this_," he muttered as he rubbed his temples.

"Uh…uh, sir?" Jimmy asked tentatively. "Which script should I read?"

Rudy waved his hand, dismissing Jimmy and Abby from the "stage." "Go!" he ordered. "I cannot do anything until Janie and I can figure out the scene!" He grabbed his script, flipping through the pages of scenes. "Let's just move on to…the crime scene!" he called out. "I need Tommy, Lisa, McGregor, and Tibbs to the stage please!"

Tony, Ziva, Tim and Gibbs lined up, scripts in hand. Tim and Ziva were discussing the blocking they had learned for an earlier scene, while Tony kept sneaking peeks at his script in an effort to remember his lines for the scene. Gibbs, though, simply stood there, arms crossed, staring out at Rudy with his best "get this the hell over with" face. "Let's start from the top," Rudy ordered. "If you get stuck just call 'line' and I will prompt you." He lifted the megaphone and called out, "Quiet on the set!"

"That's only for film sets, Rudy," Gregory stated from his place at the piano.

"Oh, just start the scene already!"

"Who got smacked?" "Lisa" asked "McGregor" who was currently squatting down, inspecting the "body."

"The term is 'whacked,' Lisa," "McGregor" replied as he stood. "Looks like a Naval Officer, Boss."

There was a long, awkward pause as they all waited for the next line. All eyes turned on Tony. "Um…uh…ya think, McGee…uh…Gregor…?" Tony said uncertainly. The grimace on Rudy's face indicated that he was way off.

"You haven't memorized your lines, Agent DiNozzo," he accused.

"Well, hey! We just got this scene, like, yesterday!"

"Yes, and we gave you last night off so you could memorize it. Did you even glance at the script all night?"

Tony caught Janie's eye. The petite woman was smiling at him teasingly. He couldn't help but grin in return. "Sorry, Rudy, but I had other things to do last night."

"Come on, Tony,' Tim groaned, "_I_ found time to learn the scene."

"Yeah, well, no surprise there, McNo-Life. I can't disappoint my many lady friends."

Tim shot up defensively. "Hey! For your information, I turned down a date last night because I knew I had a responsibility!"

"Well, I guess beggars _can_ be choosers!"

The two grown men jumped at each other, each catching the other in a tight hold. Rudy called out limply for them to stop, Janie cackled, and Zhanna woke up from her tenth nap of the day. "Stop it, you two! Stop!" Rudy yelled in his megaphone.

"Take it back!"

"Never!"

"You suck!"

"Not as much as you!"

"Hey!" Everyone jumped at the sounds of a harsh voice and a hand smacking against the table. "DiNozzo, McGee! Stop acting like children!"

The two jumped apart and tried to look contrite, but as soon has Gibbs had turned his back they shot each other identical glares. "Don't make this foolishness any worse for me than it already is," he warned.

Rudy was fanning himself with his hand as though overcome with emotion by the pseudo-fight. "Oh, thank heavens that is over with!" He retook his seat, script open and megaphone in hand. "Now, Agent DiNozzo, let's try to get through this, shall we? Your line is 'Allow me, McGregor.' You then search the body for identification."

"Search the body? I thought Duck–er–Birdie hasn't gotten here yet."

"That's correct," Rudy said slowly, as though talking to a child. "Birdie arrives a couple of pages later."

"But that's not how it's done at all," Tony said. "Ducky would kill me if I disturbed the body before he got there. Trust me; I've seen him when he's angry! I don't want to be pushed off a cliff!"

"Never thought I'd say this, but Tony's right," Tim said as he looked through the script. "This scene isn't very accurate…can't do that…would _never_ do that…Gibbs would have my _head_ if I did _that_…"

Rudy made a big show of rolling his eyes. "Yes, of course the script is going to have some…embellishments. If we had you do exactly what you always do the show would be boring. It needs some pizzazz!" he explained, snapping his fingers. "You don't think cats really dance and sing, do you?"

"Well, that's not exactly the same th–"

"Or that there's a Scottish town that only appears for one day every 100 years."

"No, but my point–"

"Or that a boy could fall into a vat of toxic waste and come back as a zombie and become a celebrity for it."

"…wait, what?"

"_Zombie Prom_," Rudy said as though it were so completely obvious. "God, you people know nothing about musical theater!"

"I could rewrite the scene," Janie suggested. "After all, it can't hurt to have some accuracy, Rudy. Tony and I could get together tonight and he could explain to me what's incorrect in the script and maybe even give me a demonstration of how to properly handle a crime scene." As she said it, Janie's eyes remained fixated on Tony, her chin tilted down, her lips twisted into a seductive smile.

"Oh, fine!" Rudy groaned. "But at this rate I don't think this show is ever going to be finished!" He dismissed the group from the stage and slunk back in his chair, fingers massaging his temples. "God…this is worse than when I directed that production of _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat_!

* * *

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs Confessional #1_

_:sips coffee: I was told that I'm required to spend at least 5 minutes in here every week. :sip: I wasn't told that I had to actually do anything. :sits back and stares at camera: :sip:_

_:stare:_

_:sip:_

_:sip:_

_:stare:_

* * *

**AN:** Phew! Took me a while to churn this one out! As per request, I've tried to include some obscure musical references (and I will try to include more in the coming chapters. I don't want to give away the next chapter…but let's just say Ziva isn't the only one with surprising talents…


	6. Schadenfreude

_Abigail Scuito Confessional #2_

_I was really, really surprised when Janie gave me the new scenes she had written. She has Amy and Pimmy as lovers! How crazy is that? I mean, Jimmy is a nice guy – even though his sense of humor can be warped at times – but the characters just don't belong together! Amy is too wild for Pimmy! Their lifestyles would never mesh. I mean, can you imagine Pimmy sleeping in a coffin? I don't get where Janie is getting this from. If there is going to be a romance in the show it should be between Agent Tommy and Officer Lisa. The two of them were practically made for each other, even if neither one wants to admit it. :sigh: I just hope Jimmy doesn't read too much into this or anything!_

* * *

"Palmer and Abby?" Tony asked incredulously as the new scenes were handed out. "That's even more ridiculous than _Probie_ and Abby!"

"It's not 'Palmer and Abby,'" Janie corrected, "it's Pimmy Jalmer and Amy Sutton. The characters have a chemistry in the book that I think really needs to be explored."

"Uh, they are only in, like, one scene together," Tim stated. His cheeks were growing red as he scanned through the scene and his eyes had darkened over when the idea of Pimmy and Amy being together was brought up. "How could they possibly have a chemistry?"

Janie rolled her eyes. To her Tim was simply a whiney writer who couldn't bear to see his work changed even slightly. "They may be in only one scene, Agent McGee, but that one scene practically sends shivers down my spine as I read their interaction." She pulled out a copy of the novel and opened it a page that had been saved with a book mark. "Like when Pimmy says, 'Amy, have you finished processing the strange substance found on the victim's forearm?' and Amy, having been deep in thought at the time, is startled and replies with, 'Pimmy, don't sneak up on me like that! No, I haven't finished it yet.'" Janie closed the novel and held it to her chest, sighing as though that one interaction had been the most romantic thing she'd ever read. "I can just see Amy daydreaming about Pimmy only to be surprised when he shows up out of the blue. She wonders if he suspects she had been thinking of him. She wants to delay getting the results for as long as she possibly can so that Pimmy will have no choice but to stay a bit longer."

Tony looked to be on the verge of laughing, though a steely-eyed glare from Janie stopped him mid chuckle. Ziva simply smiled in amusement. Ducky and Gibbs looked bored out of their minds. Jimmy and Abby looked at each other in confusion. Tim simply looked annoyed. "She is deep in thought about how the victim could have been poisoned when he hadn't consumed any food or drink in the five hours before his death and he showed no signs of puncture marks on his skin from a needle! She's _not_ thinking about Pimmy! And he doesn't just show up 'out of the blue;' he was sent down there by Birdie specifically to get the results of the substance. I think you're reading far too much into that."

The petite librettist glared at Tim, not happy to be contradicted. "And just who are you to be telling me what is and is not going on in that scene?"

"I'm the writer!"

"Yes, Tim, you're the writer of the novel. I, however, am the writer of the script, so right now I outrank you! You can't expect this show to be a carbon copy of your novel."

"I don't expect it to be a carbon copy, but I don't think you should add a romance that doesn't exist."

"_You_ don't think it exists. Others, though, may see it differently. It's called creative interpretation."

"Come on, Janie," Greg called out, "there's nothing creative about your script. I'm with Tim on this one. Your Pimmy and Amy romance idea stinks."

"Shove it, Hoover!"

"The only reason you're pushing this on everyone is because _I_ didn't like the idea!"

"That is not true! I'm pushing it because it's a good idea! You and Rudy both wanted romance. Well, I'm giving it to you."

"We wanted a romance that actually works in the story, like Tommy and Lisa."

Janie's eyes darkened at the thought of Tommy and Lisa (and Tony and Ziva) having a love scene. "Absolutely not!" she insisted. "Lisa isn't the kind of woman Tommy would be interested in dating."

Ziva's head shot up, eyes narrowed. "And just what does that mean?" She wasn't interested in Tony, but she didn't like for someone to insinuate that she wasn't attractive to him either. "Are you saying I – uh – Lisa isn't good enough for Tommy?"

"Of course not," Janie said, smiling cheekily. "It's just that Tommy, I think, would be more interested in woman who is a bit more…feminine. Lisa just doesn't have what he wants."

"And what does he want? A short redhead who wears scarf dresses like they're going out of style?"

"Shut up!" Janie snarled at Gregory. "I just don't think Tommy would want to date a woman who could likely kick his ass."

Ziva smirked. "Well, there is no doubt that Lisa could take Tommy in a fight."

"Could not!" Tony retorted, not unlike a child. "Tommy could take Lisa any day of the week. He just doesn't feel right about hurting a woman. He's a gentleman." When Tim snorted at that Tony turned his glare upon the junior agent. "Do you have something to add to this conversation, McSnickers?"

Tim shrugged. "I just think it's funny that you would refer to a guy who has to describe every one of his sexual encounters in great detail as being a 'gentleman.'"

"Hey," Janie called, snapping her fingers in the air to get their attention. "I am the last word on the script, so it really doesn't matter what any of you think. Pimmy and Amy are in a relationship. End of story." With that she slammed the script down on the table, daring someone to contradict her.

* * *

_Timothy McGee Confessional #2_

_Upset? About the Pimmy and Amy romance? :snort: Of course I'm not upset! I mean, I'm upset as a writer that Janie is taking my work and twisting it around for what she wants. But it has nothing to do with her pairing Amy with Pimmy. Yes, in the sequel to _Deep Six _I'd planned for Amy to fall for McGregor…no, that has nothing to do with my personal feelings for Abby. It just seems like something Amy would do. But if Janie is going to force her and Pimmy together – no matter how ridiculous it is and how wrong Pimmy is for Amy – it's her business. I really didn't intend for there to be any romance in the story, but I have to agree that the most obvious choice would be Tommy and Lisa. If you ask me, the only reason Janie doesn't want that is because she's hot for Tony. They seem to be flirting a lot lately. Of course, Janie has been flirting with everyone to make Gregory jealous and Tony…well, he's Tony…but still, there seems to be a little something more there now…_

* * *

"And vun-two-tree-four and five-seex-seven-eight!" Zhanna counted out, banging her cane against the ground with each count. On the floor Abby, Tony, Tim, and Jimmy struggled to do the dance as she had instructed. Ziva, in great contrast, soared through it gracefully. Elsewhere in the space Ducky and Gibbs were with Gregory and Rudy respectively. "No, no, no," the Russian woman scolded, motoring out on to the floor. "Zee tree-step turn comes before zee kick ball-change." She muttered something under her breath about God not sending her proper dancers. "Agent DiNozzo," she said, pronouncing his name "DiNotso," "you have zee grace and rhythm of a lead elephant!"

Tony's face reddened as he heard snickers from around him. He knew he wasn't exactly as great a dancer as Ziva, but he didn't think he was _that_ bad. "You must point your toes ven you jump and you must not land so hard! Your stomping vill drown out zee music!"

"And your cane won't?" he muttered to himself.

"Vat vas zat, Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony looked at the woman incredulously. How on earth could a woman that old have such excellent hearing. "Nothing."

"Good. Zen you vill have no trouble in zee future, yes?" She didn't wait for his response before looking to Abby. "You, Miss Scuito, must learn to support your arms. You cannot just let zem plop about like zat! You look like a rag doll! And Agent McGee, you are always vun count behind! You must stay on zee beat," she insisted, punctuating each word with a snap of her fingers.

Zhanna came now to Ziva who was standing very poised, feet together in ballet first position. "Miss David, you are an excellent dancer. You make my job not so hard. And you, Mr. Palmer…" Jimmy held his breath, waiting for the verbal spar or whack of the cane. "…you are much improved." Jimmy smiled, let out a relieved sigh. "I believe zat vith a bit more training you vill do me – and my choreography – proud." She told them to take five as she motored off toward the lunch table.

"Yeah, well I'd be better if I could have private lessons too," Tony mumbled.

"Stop acting like a baby, Tony. It's not Jimmy's fault that you have…what did she call it? The grace of a lead elephant?" Ziva teased.

"Says the teacher's pet," Tim said with a pout. "I think you're making us all look bad."

"You don't need any help to look bad, Elf Lord."

"Could the two of you stop acting like children for one day?" Abby begged.

"_Us_? You're the one who tattles on us to Daddy Gibbs when you don't get your way!" Tim accused. Abby's eyes narrowed.

"I am _so_ telling Gibbs you said that!" she said, stomping off. Tim's eyes widened. Gibbs was angry enough that Tim had gotten the team into this entire musical reality show to begin with. Well, Tim hadn't specifically gotten them into it, his novel had, but he's the one who wrote the novel in the first place, so as far as Gibbs was concerned this was Tim's own doing. Having Abby going to him about this would only make things worse.

"Abby, wait! I'm sorry! I didn't mean that!" he called out as he trailed behind her. Ziva and Tony exchanged glances and grinned impishly. They took off behind Tim to watch what happened.

Jimmy stayed back for a moment, unsure if he too should follow the others, and suffer the ire of Zhanna when she returned and found that her dancers had fled the dance floor. After a few moments he sprinted to catch up with the others. Zhanna had probably fallen asleep and wouldn't be back for quite some time. Besides, it seemed he was now on her good side, so he likely wouldn't bear the brunt of her sparring.

Up head, Tim had finally managed to catch up to the Goth girl "Abby," Tim pleaded as he gently grabbed her arm, "I said I'm sorry. Can we just forget this?" He winced when she yanked her arm out of her grasp. "I'm just testy because…well, I think we're all testy over this entire thing."

"Save it, McGee! You're the one who got us into this mess to begin with, so you have no right to be whining about it. If you didn't want this to happen you should grow…a…" Abby trailed off as her ears perked up. "Um…a…a, uh…" She couldn't finish her thought as she began walking further. She didn't seem to be angry anymore. Instead, she looked pensive.

"Abby, wha–" Tim was cut off by Abby.

"Shh…" she whispered. "Do you hear that?"

Tim furrowed his brow and listened carefully. He could hear music and someone singing…someone singing very well. "Who is that?"

"How should I know?" Abby listened again before pointing to a door. "It's coming from in there."

"Hey! Are we too late to see McGee get his ass handed to him?" Tony asked as he and Ziva approached the group with Jimmy not far behind.

"Shut it, Tony," Abby ordered. "Someone is singing and we're trying to listen." She motioned for them to follow her to the door. She gently opened it and peeked inside. There was Gregory playing piano and Ducky standing beside it singing.

The two men looked up when they heard the door creak open. "Oh, hello, Abigail," a somewhat flustered Ducky greeted. When the door opened further and he saw everyone else standing there he added, "I see we have an audience."

"Ducky, that was wonderful!" Abby gushed. "I didn't know you were a singer."

"Oh, well I don't sing much these days. I dabbled in music in my youth."

"Is that one of the songs that is going to be in the show?" Ziva asked Gregory.

"Oh, no, that was an old Cole Porter song," the young man explained. "I was stuck on some of the music, and so I decided to just put it aside and play something else to clear my head. Dr. Mallard heard my playing and came in. The two of us began talking and one thing lead to another and…" Gregory shrugged as he trailed off. "It was an impromptu music session."

"That's impressive, Ducky," Tim commented. "I'd no idea you had a background in music."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, "I thought Ziva was the only musical theater dork at NCIS." He let out a soft grunt of pain as Ziva's elbow jabbed into his side.

"Actually, Anthony, back in my day musical theater songs were considered popular music. Richard Rodgers, Oscar Hammerstein, Lorenz Hart, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, George Gershwin, Noel Coward, Irving Berlin, Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen – they were the pop stars, so to speak. In fact, I remember a time when every young man in my school would walk down the hall singing, or at least whistling, 'Oh, What a Beautiful Morning' and 'Fascinatin' Rhythm.' Yes, I do seem to remember one of my close friends tried to woo the daughter of a local business man by serenading her with 'Old Devil Moon' from _Finian's Rainbow_. She responded back with 'I Hate Men.'"

"Oh, did we miss the party?" Rudy's voice cut through the conversation. The group turned to see the man standing with Gibbs just outside the open door.

"Dr. Mallard was just giving us a brief look at the history of musical theater," Gregory told him.

"Well not be a little party-pooper, but we only have five more weeks to get this show completed and ready to be performed," Rudy told them. "In the future, let's keep socializing to a minimum," he scolded as the group filed out one by one.

"Ven I say five meenutes, I mean five meenutes!" Zhanna roared as she motored toward the group. "I come back to an empty floor!"

"Well, we left…um…why did we leave again?" Tim asked the group.

Abby's eyes ignited again. "I left to tell Gibbs what you said!" She ran toward the stoic looking man. "Gibbs! We were talking and I told Tony and Tim to stop acting like babies…"

"Abby! I told you I was sorry," Tim pleaded.

"You!" Zhanna said, slapping Tony's leg with her cane. "You vere zee instigator of zis…mutiny against me!"

"Agh! No, it wasn't me!" Tony insisted. He was again smacked with the cane. "You crazy lady!"

"I am just saying that we don't have time to sit around lazily talking," Rudy said.

"I don't see the harm in it, Rudy," Gregory replied. "You're a director, not a slave driver. I don't think there is any harm in giving them a little history of musical theater. I'm sure audiences who are going to be watching this show at home will want a little background."

As the melee continued, Ziva, Ducky, and Jimmy congregated on the outskirts and watched in amusement. "This will make for nice television, yes?" Ziva asked.

"I am sure it will," Ducky agreed. "It seems television audiences today enjoy watching others be miserable."

"Schadenfreude," she said.

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"It is a term that refers to other people taking joy in the misfortune of others."

"Isn't that just sadism?"

The three shared a look. "I think both words are synonymous with reality television," Ducky said.

* * *

_Donald "Ducky" Mallard Confessional #2_

_I am quite surprised by how quickly this entire ordeal has disintegrated into pettiness. The team has always had a certain familial dynamic with Jethro as the father figure and the others as the fighting siblings, but I do believe that this new atmosphere as pushed them beyond simple sibling rivalry. I fear that when this is all over their relationships with each other will be changed, and not for the best. I can't say I blame any of them for being restless and angry. We have been pulled out of our comfort zones and placed in these new roles…almost literally so. The same would happen if you were to take performers and expect them to hunt down criminals or perform autopsies. I suppose Ziva and I are in the best shape seeing as we best understand the world of musical theater. Mr. Palmer does seem to have found his comfort zone in this little circus as well. Yes, I think Jethro is the one for whom I fear the most._

* * *

**AN:** I had to make Ducky a great singer. I just _had_ to!


	7. Secret's Out!

_Ziva David Confessional #2_

_I do think there is a sense of resentment toward me seeing as I have more experience in this field than many of my co-workers. I have noticed Tony mimicking Zhanna, Rudy, and Gregory when they've paid me compliments on my performance abilities. I have also noticed the glares that Abby and McGee have been shooting me. Gibbs, just seems bored with the entire thing, so I do not think he much cares about the praises I've received. Tony, though, seems to have become something of a favorite of Janie. I have noticed that she will defend him and his unprofessional antics and she seems to insist on spending time with him to "research" for the script. I also think she has been giving him some of the best scenes. Of course, I do not think that their relationship extends beyond anything other than flirting. Tony, while overtly sexual, is not so desperate as to become involved with a woman who is technically a co-worker…I think._

* * *

Janie poured the wine, swaying to the music that played in the background. "I hope merlot is alright with you," she called to Tony who was seated on the couch. "I don't really have much hard liquor around the apartment. That's more of Gregory's thing."

Tony smiled politely as she offered him a glass and decided not to mention that Janie had mentioned Gregory about ten times in the past half-hour. "I can't quite remember where we left off last night."

"I think that I was on top." She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. The two had been meeting almost every night since the previous week. They claimed it was for research purposes, but so far the only things they'd researched were each other's bodies. "And you had your hands right…here," she said, leading his hands so that one was in her hair and one was on her breast.

"You have quite the memory," he commented as she gently massaged her breast. He leaned back and pulled her on top of him. Their lips met and Tony felt her hands trailing down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"So I was thinking," Janie said between kisses, "of giving you a really great, heroic scene at the end of the show. You kind of save everyone."

"Sounds plausible." He slipped his shirt off and threw it off to the side. "How is my song coming along?"

"Ohhh," she moaned as he mouth trailed down her neck, "I think you're going to really enjoy it, my little Italian stallion."

"Who're you calling little, missy?" Tony ran his hands along the hem of her skirt.

"God! Gregory could never please me the way you do!"

Tony froze when he heard the name and removed his hands from the fabric of her skirt. "You certainly talk about him a lot."

"Who?"

"Gregory. You've mentioned him almost once every minute."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do! I know his entire life history, his likes and dislikes…everything!"

Janie sat up and glared defiantly at Tony. "You're starting to act just like Gregory!"

"There you go again!" Tony grabbed his shirt and began to put it back on. "I don't want to be here if you're going to spend the entire time talking about your ex-boyfriend...if he even is your ex-boyfriend."

"Of course he is, Tony! Stop acting so ridiculous!" She grabbed his wrist, stopping him from buttoning up his shirt. "Look, I admit I talk about Gregory a bit too much, but it's only because he hurt me so much."

"Sorry, but I'm not falling for your little sob story again."

"No, I mean it!" she insisted. "He stood me up more times than I can remember. He flirted with other girls in front of me. He would always put me down and try to make me change…to mold me into his perfect little Barbie doll." Janie's face fell into her hands and her shoulders shook with sobs. "I just felt like such a nothing…and then _you_ were interested in me and I suddenly felt like I was good enough." She looked up and Tony could see that her cheeks were stained with tears. "I guess I'm not completely over Gregory," she admitted, "but I was hoping you could help me with that."

Tony noticed that as she said this, the shoulder strap of her top fell, exposing her succulent skin. She also crossed her legs, giving him a glimpse of her thighs. "Well…uh…" he stammered, looking at her beautiful skin. "I suppose I can offer my services…"

He expected her to snap completely out of it and tackle him to the couch with a passionate kiss. Instead, though, she gave him a sad smile and gently wiped away the tears. "Thank you, Tony," she said softly. "That really means a lot to me." She then leaned up and tenderly began kissing him again, letting her fingers trail down his cheek.

_I guess she really meant it_, Tony thought to himself as he pulled the young woman in closer to him.

* * *

_Janie Mase Confessional #1_

_Tony is a cutie. He's a bit gullible, too, but most guys can't resist a crying woman. And trust me, I can turn the waterworks on and off at the drop of a hat. I gave him some bull about not being completely over Gregory yet, which is crazy. I don't need Gregory. I can get any guy I want. It just so happens that what I want for whatever reason is Gregory. Tony is the best way to make Gregory see what he's missing. It's not that I'm not interested in Tony. Trust me, I am. It's just that my main goal is to get Greg jealous. He knows he isn't over me and I just want to remind him of that. No one knows that Tony and I are intimate. They all think it's just harmless flirting. But in reality TV, everything has to come out sooner or later. I just can't wait to see Greg's face when he finds out._

* * *

"And vonce more from ze top!" Zhanna announced. Gregory began the music and she thumped her cane against the floor rhythmically. Jimmy entered the floor from "stage left" and performed a double pirouette flawlessly. "Bravo!" Zhanna called out.

Ziva leapt on, performing an arabesque with perfect form. Behind her, Tony, Tim, and Abby stumbled on, trying in vain to keep up with the music. "Stay vith the music!" she ordered the rhythmically challenged trio. At this, Abby somehow ended up one beat ahead of everyone else. After a shaky pirouette, she went for her fan kick. As a result, her foot smacked harshly against Tim's leg. The computer geek stumbled back, knocking into Tony in the process. The two fell to the floor while Ziva and Jimmy continued the number unaffected. Abby abashedly hurried off to the side and Tony and Tim stayed sprawled across the floor, afraid that getting up would only result in getting hit again.

Jimmy and Ziva finished the number in their ending pose. He held her body above the ground, one of his hands supporting her torso while the other held her extended right leg. Her left leg was in pique, the pointed toe against her right knee, and was turned out at the hip. Her body was on a slant with her upper half pointing toward the ground and her legs pointing up toward the ceiling.

"Zat vas vonderful!" Zhanna proclaimed. "If only ze other three had not slipped up!" she looked pointedly at Abby, Tony and Tim. The latter two were getting to their feet, ready to limp over to the empty bench. "No more! You three are from from ze number!" If any of them were upset about being cut, they didn't show it. In fact, one could almost hear a sigh of relief.

"No, no, no!" Rudy yelled. "You cannot have a ballet with only two people!"

"Yes you can," Zhanna insisted. "Ve call it a pas de deux."

"We don't mind, Rudy," Tony told him. "Really."

"Yeah," Tim agreed. "Besides, in the book, Pimmy only dreams about having sex with one of the bodies, so there's no need for it to be a big production."

"But it doesn't make sense for him to be dreaming of Officer Lisa when it's already been established that Pimmy is interested in Amy," Janie was standing before them, arms crossed. "So it should be Amy dancing with him." Abby looked up in horror.

"That pairing doesn't even make sense to begin with," Ziva snapped. "I say you remove the entire Pimmy and Amy plot line. Then the ballet will make much more sense."

"Absolutely not! The Pimmy and Amy romance is what gives the show heart."

Tim intervened before the two women could attack each other. "Uh, well, the entire scene in the book is supposed to be symbolical anyway. Maybe in the ballet, Ziva won't be Lisa, but some sort of, uh, ambiguous dream girl who, uh…makes Pimmy realize how much he, uh, likes Amy…?" His suggestion was met with silence. "Or not…"

"I like it," Rudy said. "It's very Agnes DeMille!"

Janie shrugged. "Whatever."

"So long as my dance floor is not muddled by zem," Zhanna proclaimed, pointing toward the trio.

"Then it's agreed," Rudy said with a relieved grin. "The ballet is now a pas de deux!"

"Ve take it from ze top!"

"In the meantime," Janie said, taking hold of Tony's arm, "I think Agent DiNozzo and I should go over his scenes."

"Haven't the two of you spent the last few nights 'going over his scenes'?" Gregory commented with a hint of jealousy in his tone. "I would think Agent DiNozzo would be pretty much ready for opening night by now."

"Well, you can never be _too_ prepared," Janie commented as she pulled a puzzled looking Tony away from the group.

"Janie, what are you doing?" he asked in a hushed tone. "We can't…you know…not _here_ with everyone around."

"Where's your sense of danger and excitement?" She pouted, looking him directly in the eye. "Or are you too scared?"

Tony narrowed his eyes, biting back a bitter retort. He caught sight of an empty closet and he all but grabbed Janie and dragged her into it. Before he could even close the door, Janie's body was pressed against his, her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Her hands grabbed at his hair and he groped blindly at her breasts. "See? Doesn't this just make you so hot?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," he mumbled as he worked his lips across her skin. "It does."

"I'm sorry for this."

"For what?" As the words left his mouth, Tony heard the knob turning and felt his body falling back as the door opened. He landed on the floor, Janie on top of him, and found himself looking up at the confused faces of his colleagues. "Uh…hey guys…"

"What is going on here?" Rudy demanded. "I thought you two were going over scenes."

"Uh, yeah, this is…uh…this is the scene in which Tommy makes out with a, uh, suspect and, uh…"

"Tony, we've been caught," Janie said with mock guilt. "Let's just come clean."

Gregory was absolutely seething as he looked back and forth between Tony and Janie. "So this is what your private rehearsals entail. I should have known."

"Ugh! Everybody take five!" Rudy ordered. "And from now on there will be no more private rehearsals, Janie!"

"Fine," she said in a bored tone as she examined her nails.

Tony stood and brushed himself off as the rest of the cast and crew wandered off for their break. As soon as he was certain they were out of ear-shot, he turned on Janie in anger. "What the hell did you do that for?"

She shrugged nonchalantly in response. "I hate all this sneaking around. I figured they'd find out sooner or later, so I chose sooner."

"You did that on purpose! You used me."

"If you're going to be like that then our date for tonight is off!" She smirked impishly. "And I had just bought a little something from Victoria's Secret that I was dying for you to see…"

"…Well, let's not be so rash…"

Janie smiled, giving the federal agent a kiss on the cheek. "Pick me up at 7:30…and don't be late!"

* * *

_Anthony DiNizzo Confessional #3_

_Yeah, Janie and I have been going out. No, I don't think it's a big deal! I mean, come on! I'm a man, she's a woman. We're both adults who can make our own choices! And have you seen her? I'd be crazy to turn her down! It's not as though she's been giving preferential treatment or anything. You know, aside from always sticking up for me and giving me a lot of really great scenes and stuff. But that's just because my character is such a strong character. I mean, Agent Tommy is obviously the star of the show! Yes, this is going to make the work process a bit…awkward…but this is only going to last another four weeks or so. Janie, though, may be the one. Okay, so she probably isn't, but we're just having fun. If Gregory is that angry maybe he should have been more appreciative of her when she was with him. What? No, I am no whipped! Now I have to go. Janie told me to bring her white lilies tonight when I pick her up for our date and if I'm late she'll pout the entire night._

* * *

**AN:** Phew! Got that one out! Took me a bit longer, but then I've had a lot more to do lately. Hopefully this chapter was as good as the others.


	8. I Loved Illya

_Gregory Hoover Confession #1_

_Upset? Ha! Why would I be upset? Janie is free to see whoever she wants. If she thinks that dating some Fed who doesn't even know the difference between common time and cut time is going to make me jealous, then she's delusional. I know she's only doing it because she wants me to take her back. Those days are over, though. I can't take another day of her whining and bitching. So what if the sex was great? So what if she's beautiful and vivacious? So what if she's much smarter than people seem to realize? Do I really need that? I can get any woman I want. In fact, I've had my eye on Officer David for quite some time. She's the only person here who seems to do my music justice…well, except for Dr. Mallard…and she's wonderful to watch when she's on the dance floor. I mean, from a dancing point of view, of course. You know, I wouldn't be surprised if she and I started seeing each other a bit more outside of rehearsals…_

* * *

"I quite like this song," Ziva said as she looked over the roughly written sheet music. The new song, "How Many Ways Can I Kill You?," had been a last minute addition to the script. Janie had regarded the idea it dourly, but Gregory had insisted that Lisa's current solo did nothing to enhance her character, and she hadn't bothered to debate the matter with him.

Gregory grinned at Ziva's approval. "Well, considering your talent and experience, I thought it would be a sin to give you a song that didn't do you justice."

The song, as the title would suggest, detailed the multiple ways in which Officer Lisa would be able to kill someone. Janie had scoured the Office Depot website for weapon ideas when she had written the lyrics. Among the objects mentioned in the song were paperclips, staplers, hole-punchers, pencil sharpeners, letter openers, and, oddly enough, post-it notes. It characterized Lisa as being a MacGuiver of sorts who could take your everyday object and turn it into a deadly object.

Ziva's eyes scanned through the lyrics, nodding with each new method of murder. "Yes, I've done that…done that…a friend of mine has done that…Ooh, I must remember that one…"

"Do you need me to play it through once for you so you can get a feel for the sound?"

"Yes, please."

It was only the two of them in the small rehearsal room. The others were off going over blocking and lines with Rudy and Janie. So far, the uncovering of Janie and Tony's secret affair had been ignored, save a few looks Tony had gotten from his co-workers. Ziva, though, could tell how hurt Gregory had been by the entire thing. Even if neither would admit it, Janie and Gregory truly cared about each other; the problem was that they were both too stubborn to ever give in.

He played through the song and Ziva followed along in the music, softly singing the words to herself and tapping out the rhythm on the top of the piano. She could feel his eyes on her, but she ignored his attention, opting to concentrate on the music instead.

When the song ended, she walked to the other side of the piano and pointed to a section of music. "Do you think that I could hold this for only one beat and then use the extra beat for this syllable and combine the two eighth notes into a quarter note for this syllable. I only ask because it becomes such a, uh, mouth full? Is that the correct term?"

"Yes," Gregory assured her with a grin. He picked up a pencil and began erasing and re-writing the measure Ziva had pointed to. "And of course you can. I want this music and the words to roll off your tongue."

"Roll off my tongue?"

"Sorry, it's just a phrase. It means come out easily and naturally."

"Ah, well then, yes, this would most certainly make it…roll off my tongue?" He nodded to let her know she had said it correctly.

Gregory played through it again, this time with Ziva singing along. There were a few missteps and stumbles in the music, as to be expected the first time singing through something, but it was obvious that she was much more comfortable with this song than with the first song that had been written for her.

"I am sorry," she said as they stopped at a section on the third page. "I am having trouble making the jump between these two notes. I can't quite hear it in my head."

"I find that the best way to hear the music in your head is to play it yourself on the piano," he replied as he stood and moved behind her. He moved her hand to the piano placing her thumb on the first note and her ring finger on the second note. His own hand and fingers were covering hers and he was pressing against her back in a most uncomfortable manner.

"Now you hit the A flat," he said, pushing down on her thumb, "and then you hit the D," he continued, this time pushing down on her ring finger. He continued this pattern a few times and Ziva tried to ignore the proximity of his body to hers and concentrate on the notes. Gregory, it seemed had other plans.

"That's a wonderful perfume you're wearing," he said as he leaned in closer to her.

Ziva stiffened as she felt his breath against her neck. "I am not wearing perfume," she said as she tried to suppress the urge to ram the sheet music down his throat. "You must smell something else."

Despite her strained tone, Gregory persisted. "No, it must be you. Do you just smell this wonderful naturally?"

She paused as she considered his question the many responses she could give. Finally, with a small smirk, she asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time I strangled a man with the string of a piano?"

* * *

_Donald "Ducky" Mallard Confessional #3_

_I have noticed the tension mounting amongst our co-workers and production team. Of course, the tension has been present since the first day of rehearsal, but now, with Anthony and Janie having a secret love affair with each other and Gregory flirting with Ziva – likely in an effort to make Janie jealous – it seems much more difficult to get any work done. It's a wonder that Janie and Gregory have managed to write any songs together considering the way they have been constantly arguing. And I thought Jethro would be the most problematic person in this troupe of ours. I'm beginning to think I may be the only sane one here._

* * *

Ducky was going over the lines for his newest scene. In it, he and Jimmy were in Autopsy, discussing the possible cause of death of a young Naval Officer. The man in question had been found in a river with a gun shot wound, a stab wound, a head wound, and traces of poison in his system.

"Have you ever danced?"

He turned to see Zhanna sitting behind her in his scooter, looking him over appreciatively. He hadn't seen the choreographer much during the past weeks of rehearsal as he wasn't involved in any of the dance numbers. Their association with each other had been that of mere acquaintances.

"Ah, yes, in my youth. Not on stage, of course, but the popular dances you'd find in dance halls and local bars." When she didn't respond, he took it as a sign to continue. "As of late, though, I have not done much dancing."

"You have good dancer legs," she said.

Ducky glanced down at his shapeless trousers. He was unsure how this woman could see what kind of legs he had. "Thank you," he said uncertainly. "I don't think anyone has ever told me that before."

Zhanna drove her scooter around so that she was facing him. "I have good judge of legs," she proclaimed. "Baryshnikov? I discovered him. People think dancing is about height and veight of ze dancer, but no. It is only about ze legs and ze strength of ze legs."

"Yes, well–"

"Ven I vas in my teens I vas a stout young girl. I vas told by all zat I vould never make it in dance. Yet, vun man – ze greatest ballet instructor in Russia – he saw my legs and he knew zat I had ze legs for ze dance and for ze art. He took me and trained me. Soon, I vas dancing ze lead in every ballet. I vas Sleeping Beauty and ze Svan and ze Sugar Plum Fairy. Everyone vas shocked zat such a stout young girl could dance such dances and could be so graceful and elegant."

"Sometimes our greatest successes are had at the doubt of others."

Zhanna grinned broadly. "Yes, Doctor Mah-lard, I do believe zat is true. You do have a vay vith vords."

"Ah, yes, I have been told I have a knack for orations," he replied, obviously flustered by her sudden interest.

"I have alvays found the intelligent man to be ze far more appealing man." Her scooter edged closer to him and he soon felt her hand brush gently against his own. "Perhaps I teach you to better dance, to use ze fine legs you have."

Ducky quickly stood and strode to the other side of the area. "Thank you, but I think those days have past. Right now, I'll be happy to return to the place where I have been working for the past years."

"Is it strange?" she asked, following behind in her scooter. "I mean, does it feel peculiar to vork on ze bodies of ze dead?"

"It's far more familiar than you might think."

She shrugged. "I suppose. Still, I vould rather vork vith ze living."

Rudy stuck his head around the corner and caught sight of the duo. "Zhanna! We need you over here to work on Officer Lisa's solo dance number. And Doctor Mallard, you're needed with me to go over the blocking for your new scene."

'Yes, yes," Zhanna mumbled as they walked away behind the temperamental director, "ve are coming."

Before they parted ways, Zhanna whispered to the medical examiner, "I vill call to you later. Ve shall bring ze dancer out of you yet!"

* * *

_Zhanna Millakov Confessional #1_

_Oh, yes, zat Doctor Mah-lard is ze high point for ze time spent on zis show. He reminds me of Illya Kuryakin. I loved vatching Illya ven I vas a young woman. Such an attractive man! I do hope zat my relationship vith Doctor Mah-lard vill not be limited to our vork on zis show! _

* * *

**AN:** I know it's been a while! I'm trying to wrap this one up quickly so I can get the other WIPs out too!

* * *


	9. I'm Out of Here

_Timothy McGee Confessional #3_

_I _knew_ this was going to be a disaster! They're making a mockery out of my book! Pimmy and Amy sleeping together? Totally out of character! I mean, if _any_ of these characters should have been paired up, it's Lisa and Tommy. Obviously, they have the only sexual tension in the book! In fact, I bet that none of these people have even read the book! And what is with them pushing my character to the rear? McGregor is a main character! I think even Jimmy has more lines than I do! Of course, Ziva and Tony have the biggest roles because Gregory and Zhanna love Ziva, and Tony is sleeping with Janie. I guess if I was doing the librettist, my part would be big too! Opening night is going to be humiliating!_

* * *

It was week five when the cast began getting fitted for costumes. A portly, angry looking woman bustled through the studio with a duo of skinny girls to take measurements.

"Do we really need costumes?" Tim asked as the angry woman measured his in-seam. "We're playing ourselves, so couldn't we just wear the clothing we already own?"

Rudy snorted at the very idea. "How summer stock! We are professionals here, and professionals have costumes made."

"I just feel like this might be a waste of resources."

"Well, Agent McGee, that's why this isn't being left up to you, now isn't it? If we did anything you and your colleagues wanted, we would have dreck instead of having the wonderful and exciting musical that is blossoming before us!"

"That's subjective," Tim mumbled.

Rudy pivoted around to face him. "What was that?"

Tim sighed. "Nothing. I just think we have some creative differences. It doesn't make sense to have some woman make clothing I already ha–OOOOOW!" he squealed mid-sentence. He looked ruefully down at the portly woman. "You stuck me with a pin!"

"That's because you wouldn't stop moving around," she snapped angrily, living up to her demeanor.

"But you're just supposed to be measuring me!" he countered. "Why do you even have a pin?"

"Stop yammering!" she commanded with a non-verbalized threat to stick him again if he disobeyed. Tim glared, but kept his mouth firmly shut.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!"

The trio looked up as Abby stomped in with one of the skinny seamstresses following behind. The latter was holding a sketchbook open, trying to show something to the irate Goth girl.

"Tim! Tell these people that Amy Sutton wears this!" she demanded, pointing downward to her current ensemble. "She's Goth!"

"Of course she does," he said soothingly in an effort to calm her. "What's the problem?"

Abby snatched the sketchbook from the hands of the skinny girl and shoved it in Tim's face, proclaiming, "This is!" Tim looked at the page in confusion. The name written on the page indicated that the clothing sketches were to be for the character Amy, but the clothing was…well…demure. The outfits consisted of pastel-toned suits with simple, white blouses and matching pumps. Gone were the spiked dog collars; the sketched figure's only apparent accessory were her thick-framed glasses. She looked more like a librarian than she did a Goth scientist.

"That's the costume for Amy?" he asked incredulously. "But…but in my book, her clothing is better described than anyone else's! She's Goth! Short skirts, platform boots, dark make-up, and tattoos!"

The skinny woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. "That's ridiculous! Who ever heard of a Goth forensic scientist working for a government agency? That sounds like something out of a silly television show! _This_," she said, pointing to her sketches, "is much more realistic."

Abby's normally pale white face grew red. "I will have you know, miss whomever you are, that I _am_ a forensic scientist and I _do_ work for a government agency, so I think I have a much better idea of what is and isn't realistic. The only time I would ever wear _that_," she said, spitting out the word as though talking about the most vile of vermin, "is when I go to court. I even got undressed in my hearse after court and drove home in my underwear because I was getting a rash from the polyester of my suit. So don't you tell me what is and isn't realistic!"

"Ladies!" Rudy called, clapping his hands together. "This is not the time for a silly little catfight! Now I'm sure we can reach some sort of a compromise."

"I wear what I want and we destroy those sketches." Abby's comment wasn't so much a suggestion as it was an ultimatum.

"But we already have one of these made!" the skinny girl whined.

"Can't you just wear one of these suits?" Rudy asked.

"I told you! I only would wear that stuff if I was going to court."

Rudy sighed. "Fine! I'll have Janie write a scene where you're about to got o court. You'll pop in, mention you're going to court, and then leave. Okay?"

She frowned, but gave in. "So long as I don't need to wear it very long."

Tim pouted. They were changing his book far too much for his liking, but he couldn't say anything about it.

He hated this.

* * *

_Abigail Scuito Confessional #3_

_It's just ridiculous! Me in a suit? Did they even _read_ the book? Because if they did, they wouldn't be so stupid! And it's not just a vanity thing! I'm allergic to that kind of stuff! Maybe if I get a doctor's note, they'll let me wear my own clothing. ::sigh:: Oh well! I guess it could be worse. I've actually been okay with most of the stuff going on. This is all really cool in a lame sort of way. And just think what will happen if this takes off! I mean, we'll be famous! I know everyone would love that, even if they won't admit it. Even Gibbs probably likes this more than he's letting one! It's just that Gibbs has a reputation to live up to, so he's pretending to be resistant. Deep down, I think he's enjoying this as much as anyone._

* * *

"I don't see the point in this."

Janie was sick of hearing Gibbs' excuses, and she wasn't about to hide it. "If you want to know your motivation–"

"I don't care about my motivation," he said as he plopped his script down. "I mean I don't see the point in this entire production. It has to be the dumbest idea I've ever heard."

"Sometimes the dumbest ideas do the best financially. Just look at _Legally Blonde_."

"I don't give a damn about doing the best financially. Besides, didn't that show close really quickly?"

"It's not about how long it runs! It's about how much you can milk it for all its worth."

"Merchandising?"

She nodded. "For a start. Then tours and revivals. Maybe even a movie!"

Gibbs wasn't impressed. "I would be happier if this entire thing just faded into obscurity."

"Obscurity?!?" she screeched in shock. Who could want a possible money-maker to fall into obscurity? "Why would you deny the world of this?"

"I don't think the world will care. If getting this to go away means I can get back to my real job, I'm all for it."

Janie rolled her eyes. "You just have no taste for fine art."

He tossed the script down in disdain. "If this is what is considered fine art, then you're right. I can't stomach this."

The librettist was nearing the end of her nerves and it showed. How dare a man who knew nothing about theater tell her that he couldn't stomach her work? Who was he to criticize her when he obviously didn't care about any of this and hadn't cared since the very beginning?

"Gah!" she yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "I can't work with all of this negativity! Why are you even here if you're just going to complain the entire way through?" she snapped.

"Orders," he replied calmly. "If I had it my way, I'd be out of your hair and at my desk doing actual work."

"This isn't work?" she asked in anger. "Writing and performing shows that will entertain the masses is just nothing?"

"I don't think it's nearly as important as keeping criminals off the streets."

Inside, Janie felt something snap and a rage like none other swarmed her mind. "Fine! Since you don't care about any of this and consider yourself to be so far above it, why don't you just leave?" she suggested in ire. "Just get out and let us do work! I'll even tell whoever forced you upon us that I kicked you off the set! So just get out!"

Gibbs looked at her for a moment before nodding. "Okay. I'm going." Then he got up and walked out.

"Good!" she said in a huff. Then it dawned on her. "Wait, what?!?" how could they do a show about the adventures of L.J. Tibbs without an L.J. Tibbs? "Dammit!" she yelled as she jumped up and ran after him. "Come back!"

* * *

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs Confessional #2_

_I'm out. Sorry, no interviews, no talks…nothing. I'm out of here and back to the real world._

_::exits::_


End file.
